Skyrim Fanfic: Yet Untitled
by Ami.Bel
Summary: A young Redguard woman wakes up in the foreign land of Skyrim. Soon to be beheaded, she's saved by the attack of a black dragon. Unable to remember even her own name, she journeys across Skyrim and becomes embroiled in its many conflicts.


"Hey! Hey, wake up!"

I was already starting to wake. The unfamiliar voice roused me faster then if I had been given time to do so on my own. Once my eyes began to open, my other senses immediately began feeding me information.

The first thing I knew was that I was cold. Against my skin was something coarse. A ragged material had been tied to me to cover my nakedness but it did nothing else. The bitter chill of the air felt like tiny pins stabbing at my skin and the roughly made tunic helped none at all.

Next, was the other pain. My wrists were bound in front of me and tightly. The rope was thick, made to be used for tying horses or hauling heavy loads. Its wiry threads were irritating enough on their own, but my binds had been tied so tight that it dug into my skin and the burning sensation stayed even after I stopped trying to struggle against it.

My feet were free but that meant nothing. Their pain was somehow worse. There was a throbbing ache that extended to my knees. I could feel the slight of the wind on the sole of my foot in such a way that told me that somewhere was an open wound. What's more, there was the stinging and overwhelming heat of numerous swollen blisters.

All that, I next ignored. Not by choice or from any kind of imagined strength. It was forced from my mind by a single feeling that outweighed them all. I was starving.

The cold winter air was a tender caress in comparison. Hunger was a ravenous beast that cut me up from the inside. It racked my body like a deep echo from the pit of my stomach and I almost cried out from it. It was then I realized, I hadn't been sleeping at all. I had gone unconscious to escape the pain as my body ate itself. I was dying, starving to death.

I rolled my eyes to the man who had called me back to life as the world around me came into focus. This blonde man with a worried face was a fellow prisoner. He was bound by the wrists just as I was but his clothing was different. It looked far warmer then mine. I could see chainmail poking out of his blue tunic here and there. I knew there must be padding underneath. He also wore fur-lined boots and gloves, made out of animal hide.

I wasn't in my right mind to be envious. Instead, I was panicked. Nothing in my face showed it but my eyes slowly searched for answers. Where was I?

"Finally awake, I see," he said.

I couldn't speak. I couldn't nod. My throat was dry and felt raw. Moving my head made me nauseous. Even if I could, I had nothing but my own bile to vomit.

We sat on wooden planks in a carriage. We weren't alone. Next to him was another prisoner, a scrawny, red-headed man who wore the same rags as I did yet looked better. He was cleaner then any of us, I noticed. He had just recently been captured.

Next to me was another man, surely the warmest of us all. Not an inch of his skin was visible aside from his head. I eyed the texture of his clothes and the heavy way they hung to him. Wool, and not cheaply made. The edges of his sleeves, though worn and dirtied, were embroidered with a brightly-colored thread. From his shoulders hung a fur cloak that I would later learn was none other then the hide of a bear. He was much like that bear he wore, this burly man who emanated dominance and power.

He hung his head as if to shield his face, a gesture I thought nothing of at the time. I still caught a glimpse of the lower half of his face that wasn't covered by the curtain of his long blonde hair. He was gagged with a thick strip of cloth tied around his mouth.

I looked around again. The cart, pulled by a horse and rider, moved down a cobbled road through a forest. I didn't recognize the trees we passed. I couldn't name the mountains that shaded us on either side. The smells that hit my nose, of pine and ice, I could not remember. A pang in my chest, in my heart, confirmed my fear. I was a prisoner in foreign land.

"You were caught trying to cross the border, weren't you?"

I whipped my head so fast toward the man that spoke that for a few seconds, my vision blurred again. I forced myself to swallow and silently endured the pain before trying to speak.

"Bor-border?" I asked.

"Near Falkreath," he answered. "Where Skyrim meets Hammerfell. Walked right into that Imperial ambush. So did we. And that horse thief over there."

I closed my eyes as I processed what he had said. None of it made me feel anything. Why was nothing familiar? I tried to think of basic things; who I was, where had I been before, how I had gotten here, how long had I been like this. Nothing. No answers. Just blurry shards of memories that I couldn't understand.

I dictated his words to myself in my mind in the hopes that I could at least hold a memory of something, anything. 'Near Falkreath, where Skyrim meets Hammerfell. I walked into an Imperial ambush.'

"Damn Stormcloaks," spat out the other man. "Skyrim was fine until you came along! The Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn't been looking for you, I could've taken that horse and made it halfway to Hammerfell!"

Though frustrating, I listened intently to their argument and juggled my questions. Did these men know me? Did I know them?

"We're all brothers and sisters in chains now, thief," answered the soldier.

"Shut up back there," shouted the carriage driver.

"Watch your tongue!" The soldier rose his voice in anger as he turned toward the carriage driver with hateful eyes. "You are speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King!"

"Ulfric Stormcloak" the thief whispered.

I followed his gaze and looked to the man next to me. He rose his head and stared back with cold blue eyes. His face was weary and haunted by some phantom that only he could see. I somehow felt my looking directly at him was intrusive and lowered my head. I wondered only for a moment, if he were the king of this empire, then why would he be bound and gagged?

"You're the leader of the rebellion," the thief said in disbelief.

I closed my eyes slowly in a mocking gesture as my question was answered.

"If the empire has captured you... Where are they taking us?"

"Isn't that obvious," said the soldier. "Sovengarde awaits."

"No," the thief objected. "I don't belong here! I'm not a Stormcloak! You have to tell them, I'm not with you!"

"Stop you're crying, horse-thief," the soldier grumbled back. "After what they did to the Redguard child, you think they care about your innocence?"

I looked at the soldier and without my saying a word, he must've understood my confusion.

"They really did a number on you. I suppose the Thalmor have it in for your people in general."

I let my body lull along with the car. So I was a 'Redguard' and although I didn't know what that meant, these persons or things called 'the Thalmor' didn't like me because of it. The cart began to move faster as the road turned downhill. We weren't out of the woods but were coming to a settlement. From upon a gate house, two guards in red cloth and brown leather uniforms looked down at us and jeered.

"The headman's axe is waiting!"

The wooden gate swung open and our funeral procession proceeded inside.

"Look there," said the soldier. "Tulius, the military general. And those damn Thalmor are with him. No doubt they had something to do with our capture."

The soldier turned his shoulder and I looked behind him. It was easy to tell which was which. The general wore a gilded breastplate and his armor was adorned with metal studs. Without thinking, I knew the amount of detailed metal work that went into it. I could only see the back of his head as he sat upon a horse, talking to another mounted rider in font of him.'

In an instant, I knew it wasn't human. This woman was facing hers and although from afar, my eyes caught enough. She was tall but that wasn't the way I would describe her. It was as if her entire body had been stretched from end to end. She was bone thin, her skin was a pale sickly green and looked as if it would be rubbery to touch. Her eyes were large and yellowed but not from age as would've been natural. Her hair was grayish-white and hung limply down her shoulders, it only think of seaweed. Dressed in a long black leather coat trimmed in an supernatural glowing metal, including menacingly long gloves that went to her elbows, her threatening and ethereal apperance churned my empty stomach.

"Thalmor," I repeated the word and understood its meaning as soon as it crossed my lips. It was like a blight, a slow sickness that spread decay and ate away.

"Aye," he nodded. "Damned high-elves."

Our ride continued through the town with only one stop in mind. The sky overhead turned cloudy and grey but there was no telling if it felt sorrow for our deaths or rejoiced at our gloom.

People came out of their houses to watch us pass, some even followed the cart, intent on seeing our execution as well. I could hear the feet of children and the worry in the voices of their parents as they ushered them inside lest we somehow curse them.

The thief began reciting a prayer to his gods to save him. The soldier did no such thing, at least not aloud. He sat quiet and merely waited. I didn't care to turn my head to look Ulfric Stormcloak. Whether he was remorseful or indignant wouldn't matter soon enough. As we came to stop in the center of the town, my eyes spotted the chopping black. A dreadful thought, that I would die with nothing.

"My name," I said aloud. "What is my name?"

One of the guards began ordering the prisoners from the wagon ahead of ours to get out and line up. We began to move in our seats, with nothing else to do but prepare for the end. There was only a moment when their eyes turned to me upon hearing my question.

"Did I have a name?"

"Kahdija," said the soldier, sounding it out with uncertainty. "You said it in your sleep. I don't know if it's your name. I don't know if it even means anything. But it's what you said."

I gave small nod to show my gratitude. I didn't lift my eyes from my feet and he didn't look back as, one by one, we were unloaded from the cart.


End file.
